


First Impressions

by SavageSeraphim



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: FAHC, Fake AH Crew, Gen, Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 19:36:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11320236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SavageSeraphim/pseuds/SavageSeraphim
Summary: Sentence Prompt: “It’s kinda hard to concentrate when you can slice open my stomach at any second.”Jeremy decides to finally try his luck talking with the infamous Fakes. Trouble is, they aren't the type to leave business cards lying around. He'll just have to get creative.





	First Impressions

“How did you get in here? Who are you? Who are you working for - Do you even know who you’re messing with, kid?” The Vagabond’s voice is sharp like steel, but the rapid-fire of his questions doesn’t do Jeremy any favors. He’s not even sure what question is most important, whether he should answer any of them, but what he is damn sure he needs to concentrate on is not moving even as his feet dangle off the ground. The collar of his orange shirt is balled up in the Vagabond’s fist and there is a matte black machete pressed threateningly to his abdomen, ready to rip him open at a wrong answer. 

Needless to say, he’s made a mistake.

“Look, if you just give me a second -” He just needs time to think of a good excuse. Vagabond’s not buying it.

“Answers. Now.”

“It’s kinda hard to concentrate when you can slice open my stomach at any second!” His voice cracks and he flinches, but the moment of weakness seems to save him, somehow. An irritated sigh escapes from painted lips and the note of viciousness fades from the Vagabond’s tone. He’s lowered enough to stand on his own. The blade, however, stays.

“Alright, kid. First thing’s first. You’re in my apartment. Why? Who sent you?”

“Nobody. I uh, came on my own? I followed you after the heist - I meant to get to Ramsey but you broke off from the others and I thought it might be easier, one on one -”

“To kill me?” There’s a smirk now like a knife’s edge, devilish amusement that should be far more horrifying than attractive, but then, Jeremy’s always been too drawn to dangerous things, even more so to dangerous people. 

“No, no, hear me out. I’m kind of - uhm, a fan? I wanted to help out, you know, I’m good at getting info, I can fight -”

There must be something fascinating on the ceiling, because the Vagabond suddenly seems very interested. Nonetheless, he’s grinning.  
“Ramsey would have shot you on site with a nonsense excuse like that.”

“Well, good thing I followed you instead then?” And it’s not like Jeremy hasn’t heard dozens of tales about the Vagabond, about his penchant for vicious, creative acts of cruelty and careless disposal of human life. It’s not like Jeremy doesn’t know, just like any decently aware person in Los Santos knows, that approaching the Vagabond uninvited may be the worst kind of death sentence. But he could swear that the man looks amused. And not the ‘planning a man’s horrific demise’ kind of amused either. Hopefully.

“Yeah. Good thing. Now do me a favor, kid? Go home.” This is the point where Jeremy should absolutely leave, be grateful with the fact that he wasn’t gutted like a fish and chucked out the open window he came in from. He should say his damn prayers too and watch his back in case the Vagabond suddenly decides letting the home intruder live was a mistake. Jeremy does none of those things.

“What if I told you I know where the Funhaus base is?” Bitter rivals they were not, but the Fakes loved to antagonize the second biggest Crew in Los Santos. For good reason, they never stayed in one base for long. Pranks, often explosive and always elaborate, seemed to secure the Fakes’ position as ‘Top Dogs’. Funhaus tended to take it in stride, hitting back with some of their own, but they’d been quiet lately. Almost certainly planning something. If the Fakes could get the drop on them first, well. It was the kind of info that made for a pretty bargaining chip. 

“What, you break into their place too?” Now the Vagabond is definitely amused, and maybe a bit interested. Jeremy’s shirt is let go and he takes a tentative step back from the machete.  
“Something like that. Like I said, I’m good at getting into places. Normally don’t get caught, either.” He gives his best winning smile. If he can win over the Vagabond, he can do damn near anything. 

“Tell you what. Give me your name and a number. I’ll talk to Ramsey. If he’s interested, we’ll get back to you.”

“Sure thing!” Jeremy isn’t about to question his good fortune, rattling off the number to his cell with ease despite the still relatively tense situation, in a darkened room with a known member of the infamous Fakes.

“And your name?” The question is almost a challenge, expecting a code name like every other criminal with a lick of sense.

“Jeremy. Jeremy Dooley.” The look the Vagabond gives him is almost funny, and Jeremy can’t restrain a chuckle. “Hey, I’m not stupid. I’d give a fake if I didn’t know you guys could find it.”

“…Right. Well, you’ll be hearing from us.” It’s not exactly a friendly goodbye and comes across almost like a threat, but it’s better than Jeremy could have expected and so he nods, heading for the window. It isn’t until he’s grabbed the windowsill that the Vagabond speaks up again. “Wait, hold on, how did you even get in here?”

“The…window?” Obviously? 

“No, I mean, there’s no fire escape. There’s no balcony. How did you get up here?”

“I climbed the windows.” 

There’s barely enough space on the sills for a foot. Ryan’s apartment is several floors up. What the fuck?

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t like doing it, but-”

“Just use the door, Jeremy. Better not break your neck before we can get in touch.” As much as it sounds like a threat, there’s some hint of concern there, and Jeremy grins.

“Will do! See you soon.”

The intruder leaves and Ryan locks the door behind him before collapsing back on the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose. Dumb, reckless kid acting like he had nothing to lose. He’d fit right in with the other lads if they ever met.

If they didn’t tear him apart first.

He’d better call Geoff.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you 666fps for the prompt!


End file.
